


Feathers

by bessmertny



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, wingsin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:24:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9223079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessmertny/pseuds/bessmertny
Summary: Cassian is tired; Nesta takes care of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you silverscream for the beta-ing<3

Cassian is beyond tired.

  
Since his wings have recovered, those Illyrian pricks at the camps did their best to piss him off and make him work twice as hard to regain his place as General.

It was like the months in which he was healing in Velaris completely obliterated his centuries of work, as if the scars on his wings weren’t a proof of what he survived, but a reminder that he nearly failed in the most horrible way an Illyrian male could fail, that it wasn’t enough for him to be just a bastard, but a bastard who couldn’t even protect his own wings.

And to top it all, the war with Hybern was finally coming to a close.

He prepared all the strategies, every move of the Night Court armies playing over and over in his mind,  the crashing fear of leading hundreds of males to their deaths, their blood staining the battlefield and his hands.

As the sun goes down he gives the Illyrians their last orders, making sure that everything is well organized in the camp before he flies away, but the flight is long and the moon shines high in the sky when he finally arrives at _their_ cabin; it’s a little, cozy place, the only place in the world where he feels at peace; no war, no death, no titles weighing on his shoulders.

But his heart constricts painfully when he walks through the door and he sees _her_ : Nesta is sitting on a chair, sleeping, a book resting on her thighs, her golden brown hair covering the side of her face, a candle resting on the table near her.

  
Cassian looks at his mate, waiting for him every night and never saying a word about it, just being there for him, waiting for him to come back; because she can’t come to the camps, not yet. Her powers are still developing and even if she trains regularly, she still isn’t ready for a war, no matter how much she rages that she is.  

His hand trembles as he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and even when sleeping, Nesta leans into the touch.

Cassian kisses her forehead as gently as he can before taking her in his arms, trying not to wake her, but she just mumbles and nestles in his chest.

He takes her to bed, tucked in his arms and under the dark cover of his wings.

_This_ , he thinks, _as long as I have this, I will be happy._  
  
  
  
  
Cassian wakes up with a start, a moan forming on his lips as he feels Nesta’s tongue on his wing, her hands on his shoulders making slow, circular movements.

“Rhysand sent a letter,” she says, her voice low, the air coming out of her mouth brushing his wing, making him shiver “you don’t need to go to the camps tomorrow.”    
“ _Oh_ ” is all he manages to say as her fingers trace the length of his wings, up and down and so slowly that he can’t help but moan and move toward her, his face hidden in the pillow.  
“I want to take care of you”, she whispers, right into his ear and then moves and he can’t help but arch his back and grip the headboard with both hands as her tongue traces a path between his wings.

“ _Fuck_ ”, he moans, trying to catch his breath, to move to her, to stop his hips from rutting against the mattress but she kisses the nape of his neck and her hand slithers up and down his side and the coldness of her skin leaves goose bumps in its wake.  
  
She moves again and Cassian wants to weep at the loss of her, but his mate touches his cheek, his temple, his jaw with slow, lovely kisses before she says “Move to the side, love,” and he does, smiling at the endearing name she gave him and feeling her lovely breasts against his back and wings; so he presses further back into her, his hand on her hip pulling her closer.

Her hand moves to his face, grazing his jaw and moving his hair behind his ear and he rolls his head back just as her hand moves lower, to his chest, her fingers tracing the tattoos whose patterns she knows even without seeing them, and moves lower, and _lower_ , drawing circles under his navel.

“ _Nesta_ ”, he moans “ _Nesta, love, fuck_ ” her hand moves, making him feel inch by bloody inch of skin until she reaches his cock, but just as she takes him in her hand, her tongue moves on his left wing, her mouth leaving sloppy kisses on the membrane, and he doesn’t know if it’s his cock or his wing or his entire being that she’s touching, her cold fingers setting him on fire and he feels her power, feels the trail of ice on his wing and he moves back into her, into her ice and her mouth, wanting _more_ , just as his hips snap forward, into her hand.

Cassian feels Nesta’s smile on his wing and his other hand, the one that isn’t still desperately trying to get her closer, fists the pillow as her hand begins to move on his cock, up and down on him.

“Shit” he moans and her other hand moves under the talon of his wing, pressing down hard enough to make all coherent thought fly out of his mind.   “ _I love you._ ” she says, and there’s so much devotion in her voice, so much love- “ _I lo-love you, too_.” he answers, tries to speak, tries to make her understand the way she makes him feel, so _loved_ , so _safe_ even when her touch makes him come undone, “ _Love you so much Nesta, sweetheart, love you so much._ ”

She moves again and he turns his head to kiss her, but the movement makes the scent of her arousal, of the heat pooling between her thighs, go right in his nose and he moans in the kiss and he just wants to take her, to fuck her until she moans his name, again and again and again, until she feels exactly what he is feeling in this moment but her hand moves quicker on his cock as her mouth gently sucks on the membrane of his wing and he can’t move or think or do anything but moan her name.

“ _Nesta, Nesta, Nesta_ ” is all he can say as the wave hits him and he comes, completely lost in pleasure.

He doesn’t even try to get his breath back to normal before he turns, hiding his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in before he moves up to kiss her, cradling her beautiful face with trembling hands.

She kisses him softly, like a goodnight kiss but her scent won’t leave him and his cock twitches and he wants to touch her, wants it _so_ badly, but they are both tired and it makes him smile, the lovely tiredness that sips into his bones, so different from the one he felt the past days.

“Tomorrow,” she says, knowing exactly what he is thinking  “now sleep.”  
“Tomorrow.” he echoes above her collarbone, like a promise.  
  
Neither of them notice the burnt edge of Cassian’s pillow or the feathers on the bed, scattered around them like fresh snow.


End file.
